


Wrestling.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Family Secrets, M/M, friends become Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: scenes from the life of Glóredhel, eldest child of Hador Lórindol and Gildis.married Haldir son of Hamdir, of the Haladin.for the SWG Hidden Figures challenge.





	Wrestling.

 

   "Now Hador Lórindol... entered the household of Fingolfin in his youth, and was loved by the king. Fingolfin therefore gave to him the lordship of Dor-lómin"

 

  

 

   Fingolfin had been listening to the laughter of the children in the garden below as Hador made love to him. The people of Haleth had sent a delegation under their king Halmir, and his young son Haldir was playing with Glóredhel, who was almost six, and completely spoilt. She seemed to the elves of Eithel Sirion to be a tiny copy of their beloved Hador, and since there were always so few children to pet, she had been spoiled as badly as an elf. Fingolfin grinned, remembering his own pampered childhood, and wondering how they had ever become tough enough to face the Helcaraxë.  
   Hador had heard nothing, his mortal ears too dull, his mortal wit wholly absorbed in the task at hand. Fingolfin shivered, after all these years, their appetite for each other had not waned, indeed, the thing had become more intense. He looked up at the ecstasy in the fair face of Hador and the laughter of the children faded from his mind as the desire overwhelmed him.

   But as they lay cooling, the voices of the children had turned from laughter to dispute. And clear above the half-heard words, the loud voice of Glóredhel rose through the still summer air 'Yes, but you’re only a mortal, I'm an elf !'

   Hador jerked as one struck with an arrow, Fingolfin gripped him and said 'Hush...'  
But Hador raised his face and looked down at Fingolfin 'You must send me away.'  
Fingolfin closed his eyes, his fists clenching in rage. Their time was so short, so astonishingly short, he begrudged every hour.

   He adored the children, but he had put considerable effort into making sure that they were thoroughly distracted, leaving Hador free to spend time with him. There had been fierce competition in Baraed Eithel for the attention of Glóredhel. The elves had almost come to blows over the education of the child, and in time her two brothers. The debates would continue, he knew, almost indefinitely.

   But from the garden the soft, but carrying voice of Haldir came to them 'Don’t be silly, you’re mortal too.'  
   'I am not ! My father is an elf, my mother is an elf, my uncle Fingolfin is an elf, and I am an elf !'  
   Haldir laughed loudly and nastily 'Fingolfin, your uncle ! That’s so funny ! Elves and people aren’t related, that would be like cats and dogs being related. No, it’s just because your father is best friends with Fingolfin that you even live here. An elf ! Hahaha !'

  
   There was the sound of struggling and yelping, Glóredhel had attacked. Hador dropped his head down to Fingolfin's shoulder, and Fingolfin stroked him soothingly.

   A fair elf voice rose above the shrieking 'What’s this, what’s this ? Orcs in Eithel Barad ? Call out the guard !'

   There was silence. Glóredhel spoke first 'I am sorry for fighting, but Haldir said that we were not elves, not even mummy, not even father.'

   There was another silence. Then the elf spoke to Haldir 'Haldir, your father is still at his dinner, why not see if he has saved any morsels for you ?' There was the sound of small feet running. 'Glóredhel, what does it matter to you whether you are an elf or a mortal ?'

   There was a long silence. 'I'm really not an elf ?'

   Fingolfin smiled and whispered to Hador 'That was her mother in her. She is thoughtful and alert, watchful as Gildis. You have been blessed, my dear.'  
   'This from the father of Fingon the Valiant, who rode alone to Thangorodrim.'  
   'Yes, I am proud of my son. But he shamed us all. Here we are, hiding away in the south while the Enemy grows stronger and stronger, just there.' He gestured to the north with a wince. Hador kissed him and laid their cheeks side by side.  
   'Whenever you call, sire, I shall ride with you to face Him.'  
   'Just we two ? Shall we ? It would be one way to end our torment.'  
   'Sire ! What torment ? Are you unhappy with me ?'  
Fingolfin gripped him tightly and they began to kiss, the child forgotten.

 

 

   It was a cool spring morning, puddles glinted in the bright sunlight, and high white clouds drifted past in a sharp blue sky. A troop of Hador’s own cavalry waited in formation outside the walls, while in the courtyard, stewards were attempting to assemble the household and possessions of Hador and his family into riding order. Wagonloads of gear and supplies had been on the move for weeks, and finally, all was ready. But Fingolfin had found a pretext, in the shape of a new horse, to lure Hador into the stables for a final farewell.  
   The horse was a giant, the largest either had ever seen. Braig was getting fractious, the healers were concerned at the state of his insides, and wanted him rested, preferably forever.  
   Hador was delighted with the new horse 'I shall call him Braig, I am used to the name. I will heed the counsel of the wise, and leave old Braig here, with you. He loves you too, I know you will tend him for me.'  
   'I thought we might set him loose on Ard-galen, then he may choose his own course. He will always be welcome here.'  
   Hador choked, and bowed his head. Fingolfin took him in his arms and they were kissing, and stumbling, and pulling off each other’s clothes as they fell among the piles of hay. Fingolfin let Hador take him, then in a dream of fey despair, he turned him over, and for the last time as a member of his household, he took Hador Lórindol, his dearest love.  
  
   But as the bliss of release shook his body, he heard Gildis scream 'NO !' and running steps.

   Glóredhel was there, looking down on them in shocked puzzlement.  
   She put a finger in her mouth and stood like stone, staring at them.  
   'We're just wrestling, dearest, just play-fighting.'  
Gildis hurried in, scooped up the child, looked scornfully down at them and hurried out.

 

 

 

   They always spent the summers at the lake. Even mother liked it there, where cultured people gathered, people who could appreciate her music, people who could play her music, people who could inspire her music. Glóredhel wished sometimes that she herself could play something well enough for performance, but she had no real interest in music, it seemed so dull and repetitive to her, though she liked well enough to listen and to dance.

   She was nearly seventeen, and taller than almost everyone, taller than most elves. She could see eye to eye with Fingolfin, though she rarely did. For some reason, which she could not pin down, she had begun to loathe Fingolfin, she could not say why. And the older she grew, the more she loathed him. He was charming, devoted to father and mother, and always ready with a gift or a kind word. But there was something in his eyes that made him look away from her, and, she had gradually realised, avoid her altogether. It was rumoured that he did not like ladies in that way, but he seemed friendly enough with everyone else.        

   She wondered if he just did not like her, and asked Aunt Lalwen. But Lalwen had laughed and said 'He is so devoted to your father that he is envious of the time Hador spends with you.'

   And Glóredhel, astonishingly innocent for one raised in a farming town, had said 'Do you think Fingolfin, well, wants to kiss my father ?'  
   But Aunt Lalwen had sighed 'That is not something he would discuss with me. Nor you. You must, if you truly wish to know, speak to your father, or Fingolfin, yourself.'  
   'Do you advise me to do this ?'  
   'If you do, you will know. They will not lie. But you may find the truth is unbearable to you. Are you very unhappy, with an unhappiness that could only be resolved by such knowledge ?  
   Or are you merely curious and interested ? Because if it is the latter, then why cause a scene ? Why embarrass yourself, your dear father or your dear uncle ? Do you not care for them as you once did ? Do you not love us any more ?'  
   'Go not to the elves for counsel...'  
   'Of course ! We will not command ! But we know many things, and can warn you of consequences that you may not foresee.'

   

   Glóredhel was silent for a long while. Finally she sighed 'How long have they been together ?'  
   Lalwen sighed 'Since they met here, when your father was twenty. It happened at once, right in front of everyone, we all saw them fall in love.' To Lalwen's horror Gloredhel burst into angry tears. She led her into an alcove and hugged her while she wept. It was a long time before the tears slowed and the shuddering breaths began. Lalwen reached for the small jewelled flask Finwë had given her 'Here, have some miruvor.'  
   Glóredhel drank it in silence, then after a few moments she smiled at Lalwen 'We always played at drinking miruvor. We always were dying from orc arrows, or stabbing each other with our wooden swords, and drinking pretend miruvor. I was so pleased when i broke my leg, for I knew that at last I would taste it ! And it tasted of nothing ! Still...' she laughed softly 'I liked it much better than my first taste of wine !'  
   They laughed together, the imperious infant had demanded to taste wine for her sixth birthday and then sprayed it in disgust all over the guests and table.

   Haldir was there, still smaller than her, but growing. She looked at his hands and feet as she had been taught to do, but they seemed in proportion to the rest of him. For all his dark hair and eyes, he was really rather handsome.  
   'Stars shine upon you, my princess ! I dare not hope that you remember me.'  
   'Well met, wise teacher. How could I forget the one who taught me the most important lesson of all, that I am not an elf.'  
   Haldir looked down guiltily 'I am awfully sorry about that, I got shouted at by all sorts of people for that... I had no idea... I mean, I understand now that they meant to move you before you became aware of where you were, if you see what I mean, and I ruined it all...'  
   Glóredhel smiled sadly 'It is not your fault. Indeed, there is no blame, it was a surprise, that’s all. But Haldir... I wonder... Well, you are a stranger here, and soon you will be gone. So that if I ask you a question that I might hesitate to ask someone whom I see often, you need not be troubled by seeing me again.'  
   'But my lady, I am more troubled by the thought of not seeing you again.'  
   She looked at him in irritated bafflement 'Now is not the time for courtly flatteries, I am asking if I may condide in you, and seeking your trust.'

   Haldir stood up straight, and for a moment the tall, formidale man he would become shone through the rawness of the teenage boy. 'My lady, you may trust me to die for you. I think that if you were a man, you could unite our peoples under one banner. All the Edain would flock to your side.  
   It was no folly on your part to believe yourself to be one of the Eldar, even now your beauty takes the breath from my mouth and the words from my thought. I will not say that I love you for I do not know you, save to admire you from afar. But I promise you, in the name of Haleth, that you may trust me to die with your secret.'  
  
   Glóredhel looked at him in astonishment, but after all, it had been years since last they met, and they had had little speech together. Her question was banished from her mind by the vision he had shown her, and for a moment she imagined herself waving a sword at orcs, then laughed. 'Ah, if... If you were an elf, I might love you, for your passionate words have stirred my spirit ! But no...  
   Oh Haldir, I have a memory, from when I was very young, from when we first met. No, it must have been after, it was when we were leaving Barad Eithel to move to the country.'  
   Haldir looked thoughtfully at the agitated princess. There were red marks of stress on her pale throat, and her hands were clenched into fists. 'My lady, let us sit here upon this bank, and do you compose yourself for a moment. I find I am in need of a little wine, I shall run and fetch some and return upon the instant.'

  
   He poured the wine and handed her a goblet, and set a platter of apple cakes beside her, then sat down, still in silence. She was calm when she turned her huge blue eyes to him. She really did look like her father, majestic, heroic, and beautiful.  
   'The thing is, Haldir... I fear that I know the answer already, but I must... I must know. Beyond all doubt. Or the nagging question will devour me.

   You see... I saw them together, they were naked on the floor, actually rolling in the hay. They told me they were wrestling. I was five years old... But I have never dared to ask anyone...

   But now that I am nearly seventeen, I cannot quite believe them. But I cannot believe that they lied to me either. People do not wrestle with no clothes on, do they ?'  
   'Well yes, actually they do. When men are angry, they care nothing for what they wear.'  
   'Ha, men must be angry almost all the time.'  
   Haldir nodded slowly 'Alas... I have found that to be so. But Glóredhel, surely you have heard something by now of the great love between Fingolfin and Hador Lórindol ? There are many songs... Why, Fingolfin took the lands of his own son and gave them to his lover.'  
   'His lover ?' Glóredhel leaped to her feet, but caught the goblet without spilling above half. 'Are you serious ? My father lets the high king... that’s horrible ! My poor mother ! I can’t...' she threw the goblet to the ground and ran back to the house, Haldir anxiously hurried after her.

   As they passed, elves, and edain, murmured things like 'how sweet, young love...' but Haldir was more doubtful. She would never settle for someone like him. He could scarcely imagine her settling for a mortal at all, after all her time with elves.

 

 

   Gildis was unusually friendly at the table that evening. Hador found himself talking warmly to his wife, almost as to a stranger. Relations between them had long settled into amiable dullness, but they spoke of the boys with enthusiasm for some time, until she turned to the matter of their daughter.  
   'I have decided to send Glóredhel away for a time. She will serve as one of the ladies in waiting to the wife of Halmir. She has made friends with the little boy, so she will not be going among strangers.'  
   Hador gaped at his wife in astonishment 'Has she displeased you ?'  
   'She ? No. But there is a part of her that cannot accept that she is not an elf. She must away to where the name of Fingolfin is but a story, and the deeds of the elves scarcely known. She must live among mortals, to learn of love from those who would not, merely by being alive, destroy her.'  
   'As they have destroyed me ?'  
   'YOU ? You selfish, thoughtless, careless... gah ! By the void I could cut your throat at times !'

   A silence spread around them. Hador sat back in his chair, and Gildis sat back beside him and murmured 'Forgive me.'  
   'No lady, it is you who must forgive me. I am unspeakably selfish, thinking only of him. It is you, and my children, who must bear the shame.'  
   'Your children... Ha. What do you know of them ? Not even 'our' children, but yours alone, the great Hador Lórindol, beloved of Fingolfin.' She snorted derisively, and heard him suck the breath in between his teeth.  
   'My lady, if you require me to listen to more of this, I shall follow you to our chambers.'  
But Gildis rose and left him in silence.

 

 

  
   Gloredhel was dreading her parents coming. It was to be a state visit, they had come to fetch their daughter home, after two years of pleading her to return, as she had stayed away for five years. But Gloredhel, to her astonishment, had found her place, and it was not at Barad Eithel, nor yet on the dull farmlands of Dor-lomin. For Gloredhel loved the wild wood with all the delight of a duckling in water.  
   Of course, Haldir had been marvellous, teaching her things that she secretly hoped even the precious elves did not know. She could not entirely shake the shadow from her heart, but amidst the pillars of the forest, some of trees, some of the bright sunlight spearing down between them, she ran laughing, and forgot awhile the grief in her past.

   'Hush' said Haldir softly. She looked round at him, he was far more substantial now, at twenty one. Halmir was also proud of his son’s learning; for since Gloredhel had come, the old man laughed, Halmir had been racing to catch up with her scholarship. But she had laid aside all her books and scrolls, disdaining the weaselling words for the reality of tree and bird.  
   She looked up to where Haldir was nodding, and there, high on the bare branches of an old, dead tree were nesting herons, one seated, the other fussing with the twigs. Haldir gripped her arm and they froze, watching breathlessly. The seated bird looked up at the other, then rose on spindly legs and threw itself into the air. There was a dreadful pause and then the great wings flapped and the grey bird soared into the air. But at the nest, excited cheeps were sounding, and two tufts of heads with bright gaping beaks appeared, as the standing heron stooped to feed them.  
  
  Gloredhel gasped and turned to Haldir with shining eyes. He smiled slowly, then stooped over her and, for the first time, kissed her hand. She found herself blushing and tried to scrabble for the usual words, but the time for childish games was past, for them. She knew what he wanted, she was twenty years old, everyone her age was already wed. But she had never let the thought of him into her mind. She could not. She needed his friendship too much.  
   'But you are my only friend !'  
   'Do not speak folly, you have hundreds of friends.'  
   'Not like you.'  
   'That is because I love you. But think, my darling, you will not lose a friend, we will be everything to each other, friends, lovers, companions, parents to our children...'  
   'But you are mortal...' she blurted, and burst into tears 'And so am I. Oh ! Why were we not born elves, Haldir ? It isn’t fair ! I don’t want to get old, I don’t want you to get old, I want...' She covered her face with her hands and wept.

   Haldir took her in his arms and stroked her long plait, then grinned to himself and undid the ribbon. With one hand he held her close while with the other he gently unplaited her hair until it hung like a waterfall of gold down her back. He gloated over it, stroking it with all the gentle fervour of one who has dreamed of such a moment for several years.  
  
   At last she looked up, blinking and frowning 'Why am I weeping ?'  
   Haldir laughed once 'My grandmother used to say "Why are you not weeping all the rest of the time, look at the state of the world !" ' He laughed 'But still, we must live, though we have many reasons to weep. But look, the herons return to their rest !'  
  
   She looked up at the birds, the adult was watching as the chicks jostled for comfortable positions, then, turning its body, it moved its legs in a spidery way, testing the balance of the nest, before settling down, then turning to watch them steadily through its small, sharp eyes. They withdrew quietly, and returned home, and somehow, though Gloredhel could not say how, or even when it happened, they were holding hands.

 

 

 


End file.
